


off season

by agaave



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, WIP, god i miss these two dumb ice boys, lol finally updated and formatted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agaave/pseuds/agaave
Summary: Fauldren Lehtonen used to be king of the ice, until a spectacular failure at the Grand Prix Finals has him rethinking everything he knows about what he loves.
Relationships: Capella/Fauldren (original characters)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

“And there’s the triple toe, triple loop with consummate ease - that was _sensational!_ Well done, Fauldren, you’ve done yourself and your country proud!”

“He is really some skater, _amazing_ quality in that performance. It’s not just about the technical elements, it’s not just about the jumps and spins, it’s ah - it’s about the program, how you perform the program, how you skate across the ice.”

“He must be pleased with that performance, the footwork, the presentation! Little bit of travel in the combination spin at the end, but you can forgive him for that. Lehtonen did spectacularly in the Junior Grand Prix this season, definitely carried it all over here.”

“And let’s take a look at the points - _one sixty-six point five four!_ He goes _shooting_ into the lead - unbelievable! He kept his cool right to the end, and he takes home the gold!”

Five thousand miles away, Capella sat glued to the television, their nose practically up against the screen. The sound had been turned as low as possible, to avoid waking their sleeping parents upstairs. 

Fauldren waved into the cameras, a crack of pure delight making its way through his usual detached professionalism. Fifteen years old and he was already the prize of the ice-skating world. His skating was mesmerizing, full of promise for the Senior Grand Prix. The entirety of the ice-skating world was holding its breath for his debut in the fall season next year.

_I wonder what he feels on the ice…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Fauldren Lehtonen, 21, Loses Five-Year Winning Streak To Competitors**

  * **Andrei Romm, Valentín Mendoza take first and second respectively**
  * Lehtonen's first bronze medal in a major competition in six years



_Thursday, January 24, 12.30 EST_

Fauldren Lehtonen shocked both fans and competitors today with an unprecedented performance at the Grand Prix Finals. Coming in with a personal record low score of 93.40 in the short program and 186.37 in the free skate, Lehtonen's performance has been criticized as both underwhelming and unmotivated. 

"It's not the kind of victory you really cherish, honestly," gold medalist Andrei Romm, 23, said to reporters. "I'm happy to win, of course, but when you're competing, you expect to see everyone giving it their all out there. You want to stand at the podium knowing everyone did their best."

Since his bombastic debut in the Senior Men's Division five years ago, Lehtonen has never walked away from the championships with less than gold. In both regionals and nationals, Lehtonen's record stands with almost pure first and second-place victories, his lowest score being a fifth-place performance in the Finnish Nationals when he was sixteen. His last silver was his most recent, a loss against Rippon in the Japan Grand Prix. Most fans assumed he would shake it off in time for finals, but Lehtonen's scores in both halves of this year's final program speak to a different story. 

It has since been confirmed that Lehtonen is taking a break and skipping the next figure skating season to focus on school, a decision that has some critics shaking their heads.

"At this point in a skater's career, a year can destroy you," coach Joshua Thompson said in an interview shortly after this announcement, "Skaters have retired for less. If he goes, best case scenario he's never going to perform at the same level again." 

Lehtonen has declined requests for an interview.

Topics: _Figure Skating_ _,_ _Fauldren Lehtonen _ _,_ _US Sports_ , _Featured_


	3. Chapter 3

The sun hadn't yet risen above the horizon as Capella trekked across campus, shivering a little in their zip-up. Without the day's warmth, the five a.m. air outside the rink was just as frigid as the air inside. 

They got up this early in the morning specifically to practice alone, nothing but their own breathing and the sound of skates on ice to accompany them. 

Except, today, someone was already there, gliding across the ice like he owned it.

He was even more beautiful in real life. 

There was the scrape of metal on ice as Fauldren abruptly stopped, seeing Capella waiting at the barrier, arms crossed as they leaned casually on it. He watched Capella warily, and they realized he thought they were a rabid fan, obsessively stalking him to this rink in the early hours of the morning. 

Well, part of it was true.

“Hey,” Capella said, raising a hand in greeting. “Do you mind sharing the rink? I came here to practice.”

They hefted their duffel onto the top of the barrier to emphasize, one hand resting on it to keep it from toppling into the rink. Fauldren’s gaze flickered from Capella to the duffel and back again, and after a tense minute, he nodded.

“Sure. I don’t own it.”  
  
“Sweet.”

They slung the bag over their shoulder, carrying it into the locker rooms so they could change into their practice gear. When they came back, Fauldren was, surprisingly, still out there on the ice, although he had limited his skating to one half of the rink. 

Capella had intended to practice scoring, but they decided that the sound would probably be too disruptive in the tentative silence. Crossovers and pivots it was. They were aware of Fauldren’s gaze on them while they practiced, presumably still wary of Capella going into fanboy mode. It was that gaze that spurred them into focusing harder on practice, determined to respect the other skater’s space. And finally, an hour later, Capella sensed Fauldren relaxing, going back to his routine.

The second day that Capella came in, Fauldren only glanced up for a moment to recognize them before skating to the side, giving up half the rink once more.

The third day, Fauldren simply moved as soon as he heard the door open, conceding the space like a natural habit.

-

**Daniil, Sanbica, Capella (3)**

3 recipients

**D: so like**

**D: how do you feel about sharing the rink with your favorite skater**

**C: !!!**

**C: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**D: lmao**

**S: gay**

-

Five weeks after their initial meeting, Capella heard Fauldren's skates stop. The sound was unusual enough that they looked up to see what was wrong. 

Fauldren was watching them, a slight pink flush on his cheeks from exertion. He came closer, stopping more than an arm's length away. Still shy, although not as much as before.

"You're very… " he said, "fast."

Capella leaned forward, arms resting on their hockey stick for balance. 

"Well, I have to be," they said, smiling, "The puck is faster."

"Can I try?"

Capella stared. Fauldren Lehtonen wanted to learn _hockey?_

"If you don't -"

"No, no!" Capella started, realizing that they'd left the question hanging a fraction of a second too long. "I was just. Surprised, I guess. I didn't think you would want to learn." 

"It looked interesting." Fauldren skated closer, coming to a stop in front of them. Capella offered the stick, pulling off their gloves to correct the ice skater's grip. 

"You want your hands - yeah. Right there. If they're too close, you won't be able to control it as well." 

Fauldren's brow was furrowed slightly. "I see."

His skating was less graceful than usual, all his attention focused on managing the puck. Capella knew from experience that it was more slippery than one might expect, the puck alternating infuriatingly between too fast and too slow, either getting left behind or skittering out of reach. 

"This was more _technical_ than I thought," Fauldren huffed, and then looked up at Capella, remembering who he was talking to, "Not that I -"

Capella laughed, waving off his concerns. "No offense taken. Most people think it's easier than it looks." 

Fauldren did a few more practice runs, moving with a bit more grace and speed as he zigzagged back and forth. The stick was not a natural extension of him the way it was in Capella's hands, but he was learning.

"And you do this with a team fighting you for it," Fauldren laughed as he lost the puck again. He handed the stick back to Capella, pushing his hair out of his face. “Thank you. I won’t interrupt your practice any more…"

His voice trailed off questioningly, and Capella supplied the answer.

"Capella. If you want to try again a different day, I won't mind," Capella said, skating over to retrieve the puck. They swept it into the goal with a flick of their wrist. 

Fauldren's head snapped up in a little surprised gesture, like he didn't expect Capella to make the offer. 

"Yes," he said. "Yes, of course. My name is Fauldren, by the way."


	4. Chapter 4

Fauldren wasn't on the ice when Capella arrived the next morning. Instead, he had both hands on the barrier for support as he leaned forward, one leg going up in a stretch. 

And up. And up.

Capella felt themselves watch in slack-jawed admiration as Fauldren finally stopped, his left leg forming a perfectly straight line in the air above his head. And held, before Fauldren lowered it and switched. 

"You know, I've never called ice skating easy," Capella called, and Fauldren jumped, his cheeks and nose pink with the chill of the air, "And now I _definitely_ never will. That's amazing."

"I didn't realize you were already here," Fauldren said, flushed.

"Just for a little bit," Capella said, lifting themselves onto the barrier and sitting casually on it. "I hope you don't mind."

"I don't."

"Can you show me?"

Fauldren blinked. "What?"

"I'm never gonna be that flexible, but can you show me some of the stuff you do on the ice?" 

"If you'd like," Fauldren said, their gaze flicking over Capella's form. "I can think of a few things."

Capella skated out onto the ice a few minutes later, sans their usual hockey gear. Instead, they wore a pair of loose pants and a snug-fitting black shirt, rainbow stripes down one sleeve. Fauldren's gaze lingered on the bright colors for a moment.

"Well," he said, "Unfortunately, your skates aren’t meant to handle most of the more rigorous jumps or steps.”  
  
He tapped the toe of one skate against the ice, emphasizing the sharp teeth at the tip of the blade. 

"That said, there's still a few things we can do. Lunges and spirals, maybe a scratch spin if you're able."

"Show me," Capella said, a rising feeling in their chest that had nothing to do with the prospect of learning figure skating. 

Capella stopped, tapping the lead edge of their skate against the ice as they looked over at Fauldren. "What's wrong?" 

"You're not a beginner."

It wasn't a question.

Capella's hand tightened on the barrier where they had been using it for balance. "I'm not. I used to want to be a figure skater."

"Really?" Fauldren asked, and then immediately flushed pink all the way down to his chest. "I'm so sorry, that was rude -" 

"No, you're right," Capella said lightly, although there was the softest trace of a false note in their tone. "Figure skating is a lightweight sport. I've always gained weight easily, and once I hit puberty that was it for me."

"Why did you ask me today, then?"

It wasn't accusatory, just confused. Capella took it as such, turning their gaze fully toward Fauldren.

"Because I thought you wouldn't tell me _no_ , the way they did."

Fauldren stood there helplessly, unable to come up with a reply. The candor of Capella's admission left them fumbling.

He couldn't imagine having been told not to skate. Couldn't imagine telling a child that he wasn't fit for it, to do something else. Fauldren wondered for a moment if the person to do it had told Capella so gently. He hoped so.

"I should get back to proper practice," Capella said after a moment, pushing away from the barrier to go back to the gate. “Thanks for the lesson.”

Fauldren watched their retreating back, wanting to say something and finding no words.  
  
“Okay,” he said softly, long after Capella had gone.

They didn’t talk much after that, and Fauldren felt a surprising amount of discomfort at the distance. He and Capella were hardly _friends_ , despite sharing the rink together almost every morning. They’d shared a few words, laughed over an ungainly spill maybe. But outside of that, their interactions didn’t go beyond a “good morning” and “goodbye.”

And yet. 

In order to master an art, sacrifices had to be made. One of Fauldren’s had been camaraderie. He had dedicated himself wholly to figure-skating, and now… he was lacking. The brief, casual air that had existed between them simply _didn’t_ anymore, filling him with a craving he hadn’t even realized he had.

He wanted it back. But he didn’t know how to apologize to Capella, broach the distance between them, the line in the ice dividing their practice areas the same as a wall. 

Capella solved the quandary for him. They waited for him after practice one day, sitting on the benches with their hair still damp from showering.

“Where do you go after this?”

“Pardon?” Fauldren said, zipping his sweater up to his chin and sticking his hands in his pockets. 

"Like, once you leave," Capella said, flapping their hand vaguely. "Do you go to class, or…"

"My first class isn't until ten," Fauldren said cautiously. "If that's what you're asking."

"Do you want to get a coffee with me?" Capella asked, one hand at the nape of their neck in unusual reticence. “There’s this café down the street that makes some really good drinks."

"Yes," Fauldren said, latching onto the opportunity like a lifeline. 

Capella's smile was bright, warm as the noonday sun. "Great."

  
  


The café was called Crestline, a cute little brick and mortar shop just off the campus. The majority of the outdoor seats were shaded by an enormous old tree, the perfect place to sit and people-watch. Capella held the door for Fauldren, a blast of warm air mixing in with the cold, the smell of pumpkin spice and coffee rolling over them like a blanket. At this time of morning, there were only two other people here, both nursing cups of coffee and looking about ready to pass out. 

They made their way over to the counter, Fauldren ordering a small black and Capella ordering some over-sugared frappe monstrosity that was probably double Fauldren’s caloric intake for the week. They caught him staring, and laughed.

“I’m hot-blooded.”

“It’s _October._ ”

“Your point?”

Fauldren simply shook his head, smiling, and accepted his drink, waiting for… whatever it was that Capella ordered to be ready. When it arrived, Capella offered Fauldren a sip, laughing at his trapped expression.   
  
“Come on, let’s take a seat.”

They snagged one of the booths by the window, just close enough to the heating vent to be warm, without being overwhelmed by a blast of hot air to the face. Fauldren wrapped his hands around his cup, feeling suddenly awkward again.

“I wanted -”

“I think -”

They both spoke at the same time, and stopped, twin wry smiles on their faces. Capella motioned for Fauldren to go first.

“I wanted to apologize for my reaction on the rink,” Fauldren said immediately, fingernails digging into the stiff cardboard of his cup. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, it was mean and -”

“You -” Capella looked stunned. “You think you need to apologize to _me?”_

Fauldren’s mouth had fallen open slightly, brows furrowed. “Should… should I not?”“No, I,” Capella was laughing, “I asked you over here so _I_ could apologize to _you._ I made it weird back there, talking about old dreams and shit. I thought I made you uncomfortable.”

And then Fauldren was laughing too, a nervous buildup of anxiety and relief bubbling up as mirth in his chest. It was too loud for this quiet, early-morning café, and Fauldren couldn't bring himself to care.

“I didn’t mind,” Fauldren said, once their laughter died down, “Really. I’ve just… I’ve never had someone tell me anything like that before. Like a friend would.”

Capella’s nail scratched along the wood grain of the table, back and forth. A tiny, suddenly anxious gesture. “I thought we were. Friends. Sorry, that sounds really presumptuous now that I -”

“I’d like to be friends,” Fauldren said softly, cutting through Capella’s rambling.

“You… would?” Capella sounded like they could hardly believe it.

Fauldren nodded, taking a sip of his coffee and feeling warm. "After what you trusted me with? I don't think I have a choice."

It startled a laugh out of Capella, their expression softening. Fauldren felt a strange, heightened, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach at the sound.

_I've made a friend._


	5. Chapter 5

It became a part of their routine, walking to the coffee shop after practice. Thanks to the time, they usually had the coffee shop to themselves, talking about easy things. What they had to talk about, Fauldren couldn't have said, but somehow they managed to fill every morning with conversation. 

At some point they had exchanged numbers, and Capella was not shy about setting the tone of conversation immediately, sending Fauldren a selfie with a cat they’d found while wandering the campus. The picture had been of Capella with the cat curled up in their lap, eyes shut in obvious happy-cat bliss.

**C: she purred for fifteen minutes and then ran away**

Fauldren resisted the urge to save it to his photo roll. He called upon a heroic sense of self-restraint and only looked at the photo nine more times before locking his phone.

-

**C: hey do you have any classes today**

**F: My last class ends at 6, why?**

**C: one of my friends lent me a movie and its kinda lame to watch alone**

**C: wanna come over? Like 630ish**

**F: Sure**

**C: sweet :)**

-

Fauldren was outside Capella’s apartment door at six-thirty on the dot, fidgeting and wondering if he should have brought anything to this - movie night? Maybe food? Something to drink? What was the proper etiquette -

Capella opened the door, dressed comfortably in snug-fitting red sweats and a cropped tank top with “I Just Want To Be Loved, Bitch” printed across the chest in rainbow lettering. Fauldren cocked a brow, feeling a surge of relief tinged with affection. Why had he ever been worried?

“Interesting fashion choice,” he said, and Capella grinned.

“When have you ever known me to pick anything else?”

They stepped aside to let him in, Fauldren taking a moment to look curiously around the tiny apartment. It was surprisingly neat for someone as carefree as Capella, everything organized into its proper place. A bookshelf lined one wall, full of not only books, but potted plants and framed photographs, a kind of organized chaos from years of accumulated belongings. The furniture was mismatched, but comfortable, a couch and plush armchairs arranged in a semicircle around the television. There were more pictures on the wall, intermingled with a few extremely well-detailed paintings of various flora.

“Sanbica made those,” Capella said, at Fauldren’s curious glance, “My - brother. He’s very into plant academia.”

Fauldren wondered briefly over the catch in Capella’s sentence, but didn’t press it. “They’re very beautiful.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Fauldren had assumed they were alone, but from the newcomer’s clothing it was clear that he lived here. He looked young, probably barely eighteen, with tangled black hair and eyes such a pale shade of hazel they were almost yellow. He wore a shirt that had to be Capella’s, considering how oversized it was, the hems of loose black basketball shorts peeking out from the bottom. 

“Wanna try that again, Sanbica?” Capella asked, looking very paternal with their arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. Who the fuck are you, and why are you flirting with my brother?”

Fauldren searched for a reply and found none. “Um.”

“Sanbica, this is Fauldren. He’s a friend and he’s here to watch a movie without getting hassled by little brats, so play nice.”

“Uh-huh,” Sanbica said, sounding not at all mollified. “If you’re making popcorn, make me a bag, too.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Make me a bag anyway.”

  
  


Fauldren drifted over to the bookshelf to look at the photographs while Capella made popcorn and set up the movie. Most of them appeared to be of Capella and Sanbica with another girl who didn’t look related to either of them, although Fauldren guessed from Capella’s previous descriptions of her that this was Daniil. Despite the numerous photos with their siblings, Capella didn’t appear to have any with parental figures. They could have just been in another room, but looking at how clearly Capella displayed their affection for Sanbica and Daniil, Fauldren doubted it.

There was a quiet knock at the door down the hall, Capella bringing Sanbica his popcorn. There was a huff, some laughter that was definitely Capella’s, before they came back into the living room, still smiling. 

“Sorry about him, and the,” they hesitated, waving a hand vaguely at the closed door, “flirting accusation.”

“You bring a lot of boys home?” Fauldren asked lightly, smiling.

“No, no, he -” Capella turned red, rubbing at their neck. “Well, it’s not my place to tell you the details. Just take it as him being protective. He doesn’t have a lot of people he’s attached to.”

They went into the kitchen to grab the spare bag of popcorn, tearing open the top as they flopped onto the couch. Fauldren sat down more gracefully, tucking his legs up under him as Capella hit the lights. 

“Thanks for coming to watch this with me,” Capella said, leaning back with one arm thrown over the back of the couch. “Yolotl’s been bugging me to watch this for awhile, but I’m not - good with horror movies. I get jumpy.”

“You? Jumpy? Don’t you spend your days getting battered by big men on the rink?” Fauldren teased, hoping to make the furrow in Capella’s brow relax. It worked, and Capella gave him a small smile. 

“Hey, on the rink I can just shove them back,” they said, as the opening credits began to play on the screen. “Right here, all I can do is hug a pillow.”

True to their word, Capella locked their arms around a pillow almost immediately, once the main character wandered into the carnival funhouse.

“I _hate_ when movies get all dark like this,” they grumbled, fingers digging into the soft covering. “Like something’s gonna jump out any moment.”

Fauldren privately thought that that was the whole point, but refrained from saying it for Capella’s sake, reaching for another piece of popcorn instead. He could admit to himself that it _was_ unsettling, although it clearly wasn’t as bad for him as it was for Capella.

 _“Fuck!_ ” Capella jumped at the slam of a loud noise and a jump scare, a hand flying to grip Fauldren’s tightly. They clung to it for a few minutes after the scare, looking down at their hands together before their gaze flicked nervously up to Fauldren. “Sorry, I can -”

“No, it’s all right,” Fauldren said, squeezing Capella’s hand comfortingly. “I think you need this. And I don’t mind it.”

Capella gave him a grateful smile. “Okay.”

Fauldren would have been content to stay like that for the whole movie, except Capella’s need for physical comfort increased in exact volume to the descent into horror. Three-quarters in, and Capella was pressed snugly up against Fauldren’s side, their head on his shoulder, their hand still in his.

Fauldren was glad that Capella didn’t ask him what his opinion was on the movie after, because he honestly could not have said. Most of his attention span was focused entirely on the warmth of Capella against him, how soft their hair was where it brushed against his bare skin.

The arrival of the end credits took him by surprise, Capella giving a heavy exhale as they sat up and clicked the remote to turn the TV off. Not the smartest idea, as it was now just past nine at night and the apartment was completely dark, not even the hint of a streetlight coming in through the closed curtains. 

“Wait, fuck -”

There was a thud as Capella knocked over the remote in their haste, fumbling in the darkness as they tried to find it again, fingers skimming the carpet. 

“Fuck, I don’t - I _can’t_ -” 

“Capella.”

Fauldren’s voice was warm and steady, and he put a comforting hand on their arm. Capella’s muscles were tensed, close to trembling. They stilled under his touch. 

“I’ll get the lights. Where are they?”

He’d seen them on the way in, but he wanted Capella to talk, get their mind off their anxiety. 

“They’re -” Capella swallowed hard. “By the bookcase. On the left side.”

Fauldren stood up, giving Capella’s arm one last squeeze. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, vague forms giving him a vague idea of where to go. With small, purposeful steps, he managed to make it to the opposite end of the room, one hand sliding on the wall until he felt the bump of the switch underneath his fingers. 

The lights clicked on, and Capella gave Fauldren a small, weary smile.

“Sorry. Again.”

Fauldren came back to sit next to Capella, leaning against their shoulder. At the beginning of the night, he’d put about a foot of space between them, unsure of what Capella would have allowed. But after the closeness they’d shared during the movie, it felt weird to sit anywhere but right beside them.

“You don’t have to apologize for being scared of a horror movie, you know,” he said, bringing one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it. “That’s why we watched it.”

Capella was silent for a while, long enough that Fauldren was beginning to worry he’d said the wrong thing, until -

“You are _entirely_ too good to me,” they breathed, and Fauldren laughed, mostly in relief. Capella gave him a smile, and the wide-eyed discomfort they’d had when the lights had first flicked on was gone.

_I was just going to say the same about you._


End file.
